


A Noble Endeavor

by jadehqknb



Series: Holy Poly Christmas [4]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Butler Kita, Confessions, M/M, NO Miyacest, Noble Atsumu, Noble Osamu, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, nobility au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:40:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28023318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jadehqknb/pseuds/jadehqknb
Summary: The Miya twins, born into nobility and a world full of obligations, want for nothing. Except one thing, or rather, one person whom they both desire. Now, with the Yule Ball approaching, they must decide if they are going to move on... or forward.
Relationships: Kita Shinsuke/Miya Atsumu, Kita Shinsuke/Miya Osamu
Series: Holy Poly Christmas [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2049828
Comments: 5
Kudos: 41





	A Noble Endeavor

**Author's Note:**

  * For [huiiiii](https://archiveofourown.org/users/huiiiii/gifts).



> Merry Christmas Huii! I hope you enjoy this and thank you so much for the request. I appreciate your friendship so much and have enjoyed getting to know you over the past couple of years. I hope you have a wonderful holiday season!

Osamu leaned against the wall watching as his brother stumbled across the gleaming parquet floor, smirking at his curses and faced flushed red with annoyance. He felt only slightly bad for the poor dance instructor, wincing when her foot bore the brunt of Atsumu’s two left feet. 

“This is stupid and a waste of time!” Atsumu snapped, practically flinging the woman away from him. The violin music stopped abruptly as he stomped across the room to the double doors leading to the garden, flinging them open and storming out into the brisk early evening. 

From his side, Osamu heard a deep but quiet sigh. “Good evening, Kita-san,” he said, not looking away from where his brother had disappeared into the foliage. 

“Good evening, Miya-sama,” Kita-san replied. After a beat, he added, “It is improper to slouch.” 

Osamu rolled his eyes, pushing away from the wall and turned to meet his eyes to those of his butler. The silver haired male looked up at him, respectful but firm in his gaze and all the bluster Osamu had built up burst quietly within his chest. 

Instead, he clicked his tongue, turned away and headed to where the dance instructor remained fixed in place, wringing her hands and looking terrified of being reprimanded despite Astumu being the one to storm away. 

The last thing Osamu wanted to do was learn how to dance. He knew enough to get by, he felt, and these extra lessons were just a waste of time. 

However, if the weighted heavy gaze on his back was anything to go by, despite being the next in line as dukes of the realm, they had little choice in the matter. He sometimes wondered who really ruled, if not the lands, the estate he and his brother called home. 

Most of the time, it seemed to be the Kitas. 

So, rather than leave to the kitchen to cook like he wanted to, he took the instructor in his arms, bemoaning her looks of obvious admiration and said dully, “We might as well get started.” 

She nodded, looking to where her partner held his bow against the violin at the ready. “And one… and two… and three…” 

And off they went, Osamu going through the motions, humming when she spoke but not listening to the words she said. He watched Kita-san watch him until apparently he was satisfied that Osamu would not bolt at the first opportunity before walking with purposeful strides to and out the double doors in pursuit of Atsumu. 

Which, Osamu figured, was exactly what Astumu wanted. 

It set his teeth on edge. 

“Miya-sama, watch the count,” the instructor admonished lightly. 

~~~

Dusk had begun to settle like a blanket, the stars highest in the sky just winking into view as the sun sank beyond the horizon. Atsumu sat on a stone bench within the garden maze watching the colors change from pink, to purple, the barest hints of indigo teasing as the light continued to evaporate. 

Closing his eyes and ignoring the stinging cold wind, he took in a slow deep breath, feeling the heat of his head rise up and away from his body. 

He hated this, hated everything he was held responsible to do that didn’t matter. They all knew when the time came, it would be Osamu who took the title as head of house. Not because Atsumu couldn’t  _ do it _ but because he didn’t want it. He wanted more freedom, to be himself and do the things he wanted to do. 

Which did not include dancing with boring, sniffling, money-hungry women. 

As though hearing the flow of his thoughts, a whinny sounded from the stables and he sprung to his feet. Heedless of ruining his good boots (who were they kidding,  _ all _ of their things were better than good) he dashed across the dewy ground, hurrying into where his horse Maximus stood proud and tall, his eyes filled with as much eagerness to run as Atsumu’s. 

Without hesitation, Astumu gathered his saddle and reins, hooking them with an expert touch and mounting his steed in record time. 

“Onward!” he shouted and Maximus took off, galloping across the open fields. 

The wind whipping past him was like stinging needles and Atsumu briefly regretted his haste in embarking on an impromptu ride without a proper cloak. But he tossed aside the disparaging thoughts, instead focusing on the exhilaration of a full out sprint on his loyal steed. 

A part of him was tempted to just keep going, to ride on and never look back, to follow his dreams instead of the well worn and boring path that had been laid before him since birth. 

The sound of pursuing hoofbeats drew him out of his reflections. Glancing over his shoulder, he wasn’t exactly surprised to see Kita-san, the clever devil, in hot pursuit on his coal black mare, Gypsy. She may have been smaller than Maximus but she was fiery, quick and stubborn. 

Just like her owner. 

Kita-san may not have been born into wealth, but he carried prestige as though he were made for it. Wore it better than Atsumu most days, if he were honest. 

Instead of slowing down, Atsumu urged Maximus to go faster, turning away from their pursuers. He knew not where they would end up, but wherever they were going, he was going to get there first. 

“Miya-sama, please slow down!” Kita-san called, his voice closer than expected but still behind. 

“Whatsa’ matter? Fraid of a little competition?”

“You should speak properly as is becoming your station!”

“Are you really lecturing me about edicate while I’m kicking your ass?” 

“I do not understand the purpose of our racing in the first place!” 

Atsumu looked behind him, flashing a grin. “Because it’s fun!”

“Miya-sama, duck!” Kita-san cried out in alarm. 

Atsumu dropped his head without thought and the fact annoyed him but he was grateful when he saw that, had he not heeded Kita-san’s abrupt order, the back of his head would have been clocked by a low hanging branch. 

It was just enough a distraction for him to lose focus and Kita-san to blast past him, Gypsy snorting as they went. 

“Hey! You cheater!” Atsumu cried out, driving Maximus forward once more. 

“I am not the one who did not keep his eyes forward. You must always look forward, Miya-sama.”

Atsumu decided being behind wasn’t the worst thing when he took in the view of Kita-san raised and leaning forward, his well fitted trousers right before his eyes. 

But his drive to win overtook his drive for the carnal, particularly when he knew that train of thought would only lead to further frustrations. He shook his head as if the images already building would disappear with a good shake. 

“Yah!” he shouted, digging his heels into Maximus’ sides to urge him faster. 

They pulled even with Kita-san and Gypsy as the forest line came into view. Though he wanted to continue, even Atsumu knew the folly of entering the forest in full dark with no weapons and no lights. 

“First to the trees wins!” he declared, Maximus beginning to pull ahead. 

Even with all her effort, Gypsy wasn’t as built for full out racing for long term as Maximus and she began to fall back. That, or Kita-san had relented, unwilling to push his faithful mare beyond her limits for the sake of a stupid race that meant nothing. 

Atsumu cursed himself for not determining a prize, knowing well of what he would ask, regardless of its foolhardiness. 

He and Maximus reached the finish first, drawing to a stop, awaiting Kita-san and Gypsy’s arrival. It was a brief wait, the mare not having gone as far behind as Atsumu presumed. 

“And, what if I may ask, was the point of that?” Kita-san asked. He patted Gypsy’s neck, leaning in to murmur words too soft for Atsumu’s ears to catch. 

“Like I said before,” Atsumu repeated, meeting Kita-san’s disparaging gaze as though it affected him not, “it was just for fun.” 

“You should not neglect your obligations for folly, Miya-sama,” Kita-san replied. 

“Oh boo hoo! You know as well as I do this Yule Ball is nothing more than an excuse for the nobles to flaunt what we all already know we have!” Astumu drew Maximus forward until he was alongside Kita-san. “Besides, if it was folly, why did you pursue me?” 

Kita-san narrowed his eyes. “Because it is my duty as your butler to ensure you do not get into any trouble. As it was, had I not been there, you would have ended up unconscious or dead in the fields.” 

It was the closest to anger Astumu could remember Kita-san sounding. 

“That only happened because  _ someone _ distracted me,” he said, lowering his voice and leaning closer, gratified when Kita-san made no move to back away. “I wonder who that could be?” 

They stared at each other for a moment more, the bright of the moon making Kita-san’s eyes and hair shine with an ethereal glow and for just a moment he looked otherworldly. 

Maybe he was. 

But even as Atsumu was taking in the pink beginning to tint his cheeks and hoping at the reason for it, Kita-san turned Gypsy away, saying over his shoulder, “Come, I have duties to attend to and we have a long ride back that will take double since our horses should not be pressed.”

Atsumu sighed as he followed, knowing that somehow—despite winning—he’d managed to lose. 

~~~

“Acho!” Atsumu groaned, pulling his blanket over his head. 

“It’s yer own fault, ya know,” Osamu said, filing his nail. 

“Shut up,” Atsumu snapped only to go into a coughing fit. 

A knock at the door halted the retort on Osamu’s lips. “Come in,” he said instead, frowning slightly when Kita-san entered with a tray ladened with what looked to be a bowl of steaming soup and a cup of tea. 

“Good morning Miya-sama,” Kita-san said, nodding to them both. He looked at Atsumu and Osamu saw something akin to worry grace his brow. It was brief, gone in the blink of an eye, but it nevertheless stirred a dark cloud within Osamu’s gut. 

Atsumu did not reply, caught up in coughing once more. 

A new voice—deeper and more authoratative—spoke once this last bout had run its course. “I trust in the future you will forgo frolicking in the winter air improperly attired, Miya-sama.” 

Kita-sama had entered the room, his dark grey eyes looking momentarily at Atsumu before shifting to his son. “I trust  _ you  _ will do better to make sure he is looked after as is becoming of your duties.” 

Osamu didn’t miss the twitch of Kita-san’s eye, the slight tightening of his grip on the tray and felt a wave of irritation flow over him. 

Because of Atsumu’s impulsive recklessness, Kita-san was getting reprimanded. 

“Yes, sir,” Kita-san replied, moving to the bedside to wait as his father assisted Atsumu to sit up, fluffing the pillow behind his back. 

“It’s fine, I got it,” Atsumu rasped. 

Kita-sama frowned but made no protest, instead backing away to give space for his son to set the tray over Atsumu’s lap. “Make sure to drink and eat it all. I will send for the dishes later,” he said, then bowed and exited the room. 

Osamu was right on his heels without a backwards glance at his irritating brother. The last thing he wanted to do was get caught up in him complaining about what was his own fault. Or catch whatever sickness was plaguing him. 

“You could always wallop him, ya know,” Osamu said as he fell into step with Kita-san. He paused then added, “On second thought, don’t. Somehow I think he’d like that more than he should.” 

Kita-san didn’t look at him, but Osamu  _ thought _ he caught a twitch of his lip, a smile teasing to erupt but failing to appear. He just kept walking, slowing his speed slightly as though to avoid inconveniencing Osamu and it tickled something up his spine. 

“So,” he began again after the echo of their heels in the stone hall started to grate on his nerves, “ya hafta watch over that idiot all day, huh?” 

To his surprise, Kita-san shook his head. “He needs rest and I have other duties to attend to. The maids can see to his needs.” 

Osamu couldn’t keep a smirk off his lips as he replied, “He’s not gonna like that, ya know.” 

They had reached the kitchen now and Kita-san headed to the larder, opening its door and began pulling out ingredients to make bread. “Disappointments are a part of life. It is something he needs to learn sooner than later.” 

Osamu chuckled, pushing himself up onto a nearby counter and ignoring Kita-san’s glare of disapproval. He moved back to the pantry, reaching up for another ingredient but was unable to reach. Osamu hopped off his perch and strode across the room, pressing in against Kita-san’s back to reach above his head. 

“I can get—” Kita-san began, turning to face Osamu but stopped abruptly, maybe unprepared for just how close they were to one another. 

Their eyes locked in the dim light of the small space and Osamu’s heart skipped a beat to see the flecks of iron in his steely gaze. Time seemed to freeze as they stared at each other and Osamu couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if he leaned further down and in, closed the distance and finally did what he’d been dreaming about since coming of age. 

“If you please, Miya-sama,” Kita-san said, extending his hand, breaking the spell. 

Or maybe it had just been Osamu who was bewitched. 

He set the can in Kita-san’s hand, stepping back and taking a quiet, deep breath. “Anything I can help ya, with?” he asked, not missing Kita-san’s hurried steps to return to the other side of the room. 

Expecting a quick refusal, Osamu was already headed towards the door when Kita-san’s voice stopped him in his tracks. “If you would be so good as to chop the vegetables for roasting, that would be very helpful.” 

Spinning on the ball of his foot, Osamu looked with wide, surprised eyes at the back of Kita-san’s head but he was already refocused on the task of measuring ingredients with precision. 

Tucking his smile inward, Osamu headed to the butcher block opposite where Kita-san stood, picking up the vegetables and carrying them to the sink to wash. He patted them dry and set them up, drawing a large knife perfect for the task. 

He gave one last glance to Kita-san before turning his attention to  _ not _ chopping off his finger. 

~~~

Less than two days later, Atsumu was back to being his usual pain in the ass-self. It seemed when he learned Kita-san would not be the one catering to his ever sick whim, he recuperated with impressive rapidity. 

“Looks like your plan failed,” Osamu chided over the clash of steel. He parried back towards Atsumu, sword flashing in the light of the noon-day sun. 

“Eh? What plan?” Atsumu asked, slashing with a precision that made Osamu grit his teeth as he dodged. 

“To get Kita-san alone,” Osamu replied, tired of beating around the bush. 

He’d much rather beat his brother, both in their duel  _ and _ in the quest for a certain guardian butler’s affection. 

Atsumu’s eyes narrowed, his movements coming more swift as he struck down with force decidedly harder than before. “Oh yes, dear brother, I planned to woo him with snot running down my nose and barely able to speak.” Another slash nearly caught Osamu’s sleeve. “And what about you? I heard you were rather the busy little bee, flitting around him as he worked. More like an annoying fly, I bet!” 

Usually, Osamu prided himself on keeping a level—or perhaps leveler head—than his brother but that day, the years of pent up frustration boiled over. “It’s better than  _ wasting _ his time by flying off into the night without proper attire, without proper guard making him  _ worry  _ because you’re a selfish asshole who doesn’t understand his  _ place! _ ”

They ended up on the ground after that, swords thankfully tossed aside in favor of exchanging punches instead of sword strikes. 

“What is the meaning of this?!” 

The raised voice startled them both into stillness, Osamu’s fisted grip of Atsumu’s crumpled shirt loosening slightly when his eyes landed on a furious Kita-san. His eyes were hard, his fists clenched as he stood looking ever the regal, graceful butler despite the fury burning in his eyes. “You are Miya-sans! You should not act as common  _ brutes! _ ” He strode forward, yanking Osamu off his brother, almost tossing him aside before reaching down to haul Atsumu to his feet. “Tonight is the Yule Ball and I will  _ not _ have you looking like uncultured ruffians!” 

“Kita—” Atsumu began but was cut off by Kita-san’s next rebuff. 

“No excuses! Get out of my and each other’s sight! Calm and prepare yourselves for the yule ball. And be prepared to dance until your feet fall off!”

With that, Kita-san stormed away, not looking back. 

“Well, fuck,” Atsumu sighed out, wide eyes meeting Osamu’s. 

“Not likely,” Osamu snipped, spinning on his heel to exit the courtyard. When he reached his room, he slammed the door behind him, flopping onto his bed and letting out a deep sigh. 

How was he supposed to even  _ pretend _ to court the ladies of tonight’s event when all his mind would do is replay that moment of Kita-san’s unexpected strength and passion? They’d never seen him like that, never heard him yell, never… 

Osamu groaned, pushing his pillow over his face. 

The door opened and he whipped it away, sitting up with a grunt of displeasure as Atsumu walked in without invitation. 

“You heard Kita-san, get the hell out!” 

As usual, Atsumu ignored him, shutting the door and locking it before leaning against it. “We need to get this sorted out and while, yes, I could just go ahead without you, I know…” he trailed off, taking a deep breath as he closed his eyes. “I know that Kita-san would want us to settle this civilly.” 

“Who are you and what did you do with my brother?”

Atsumu opened his eyes, anger still burning within them but it was subdued. “I’m  _ trying _ , Osamu. The least you could do is meet me halfway.” 

Osamu let out a deep breath as he flopped back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. The silence dragged on as they remained fixed in place, both unwilling to bend, both knowing what the other wanted. 

“I’m surprised he doesn’t know,” Atsumu said finally. 

“He does. He’s not stupid or blind.” Osamu sat up, meeting Atsumu’s gaze. “What I don’t know is how he feels in return. About me, about you. He’s duty bound and loyal to a fault.” 

Atsumu huffed a quiet laugh. “I don’t think I knew for sure how I felt until recently. Before, I told myself it was just the enticement of a challenge, but now… looking at the future, I can’t move forward without knowing. Without having at least tried.” 

Osamu wondered again at the man before him. Less than fifteen minutes ago, they had been scuffling and throwing punches as though they were children and now… 

“I guess there’s nothing left for it then,” Osamu said, rising from the bed. 

“We have to fight to the death?” Atsumu asked with a wry grin. 

Osamu rolled his eyes. “We have to tell him the truth. And learn his truth in return. But first, we need to get through this ball.  _ Without _ pissing him off.” 

The grin fell away as Atsumu shuffled his feet, his eyes shifting to look out the window. 

~~

Shinsuke worked to keep himself calm. Now that all the duties and the work of the day had been done and the ball was a mere hour away, it was time to square away his last bit of business. 

Apologizing for his abhorrent behavior that afternoon. He’d been so tired, so preoccupied with making sure everything was  _ perfect _ and then those two had to go and—

He cut off the train of thought. Much as he was their guardian so to speak, they were his masters, and he’d scolded them like common children. Regardless of their deserving the treatment, he’d overstepped boundaries and needed to make amends. He should have gone right away, but he was too upset and knew it wouldn’t have been sincere. 

As it was, he was still irritated by their behavior, but if he was to someday step in as lead of the household management after his father, he would need to learn to control his emotions better. It was odd, he thought as he made his way up the stairs towards his sires’ rooms, that even as a child he built a reputation of being unflappable. His stoic, calm face remained in place despite events around him but today that had all crumbled to the ground. 

His fists clenched as he reached the first landing and he worked to relax them, taking deep measured breaths as he began the next flight of stairs. 

Aware of himself as he was, it was not difficult to pinpoint the reason, at least partially, for his outburst. 

He’d been afraid. 

Fear had cut him deeper than the swords tossed haphazardly aside when he found the Osamu-san and Atsumu-san quite literally at each other's throats. 

And for what? 

A voice in the back of his head told him not to play dumb but he pushed it away, unwilling to even entertain that train of thought. It was improper to think such things about  _ one _ of his sires but to think it of both, to long for them both… that was unforgivable. He was their humble (most of the time) servant and would only ever be as such and it was a great honor, a duty that he would uphold until his dying—

“Whatcha lookin’ so down in the mouth for, Kita-san?” 

Atsumu’s drawling voice snapped Shinsuke’s attention forward and for the second time in a day he felt his composure slipping. 

The twins stood in the middle of the hallway between the doors of their room, impeccably dressed as was becoming their station in well fitted trousers, button down shirts, vests and waistcoats. Atsumu looked stunning in blue and white while Osamu wore purple as though it was created just for him. 

And Shinsuke just stood staring like a damn fool. 

“Whatsa matter? Cat got yet tongue?” Osamu asked, pulling at the cuff of his sleeves with a frown, struggling to re-secure one of his buttons. 

Shinsuke swallowed the lump in his throat and moved to him, reaching forward without thought and slipping the button through the catch. Their eyes met momentarily before Shinsuke turned to Atsumu, taking in his attire. 

“All my buttons are in place, dontcha worry.” 

Shinsuke fought against the smile teasing his lips. “Yes, Miya-san, but your tie is askance. If I may?” 

“You can do whatever you want, Kita-san,” Atsumu replied. 

Shinsuke didn’t miss the clearing of Osamu’s throat from behind him but ignored it and Atsumu’s comment except to reach up and adjust his tie to a crisp finish. He stepped back, working not to stare again before bowing down. “I owe you my apologies. I was overbearing and out of line this afternoon.” He waited, still looking at the ground, for their reply. 

“Stand tall, ya fool,” Atsumu replied. 

“You weren’t in the wrong, Kita-san,” Osamu said. 

Shinsuke righted himself, meeting their eyes. He didn’t know what to say. It wasn’t as though he’d been expecting true ire from them, but this calm, quiet demeanor was decidedly more unsettling that the shenanigans they usually pulled. 

“Don’t look so nervous, Kita-san, people are gonna think yer losin’ yer touch,” Atsumu said with a smile. He looked at his brother. “Let’s get this over with, ya? This tie is choking me.” 

“If only,” Osamua muttered but they began walking towards the stairs, Shinsuke looking after them before moving quickly to overtake them. He led them down the stairs to the double doors of the main ballroom where their presence was eagerly awaited. 

Shinsuke took in a deep breath before pulling open the doors. His father’s booming voice rang out over the crowd as the twins stepped through them. “Ladies and gentlemen, the house of Miya welcomes you to their annual Yule Ball. Please enjoy yourselves.” 

The music started as the clapping subsided and Shinsuke took a moment from just outside the room to take it all in. The staff had outdone themselves this year. Candlelight flooded the room casting a glow that was warm in sight and feel, the scent of pine and cinnamon permeating throughout as well. Decorations hung from the walls, the ceiling, the banisters, all glittering gold and silver and black. 

Piles of gifts filled the corners, ready to be issued to the guests upon their departure and in the dining room a grand buffet was laid out, allowing guests to eat and drink at their leisure.

When his eyes found the twins once more, Shinsuke was shocked to find them mingling about like the men of good breeding they were supposed to be. They were even offering smiles to their guests, somewhat tight and which didn’t reach their eyes, but they were doing it all the same. 

His heart fluttered and he pressed a hand to his chest. What a foolish thing to get excited about. But for the first time in a long while, he did not feel the need to shadow them as he usually did. Instead, he watched unobtrusively, stepping in to hand drinks or plates and take away the same, as the party wore on into the night.

The last of the guests were being helped into their carriage when Atsumu-san approached him. 

“Kita-san, we, uh, we’d like to speak to you… please.” 

“Is everything alright?” Shinsuke couldn’t help asking. From what he had seen, the evening appeared to have gone splendidly, much better than he ever could have hoped in fact. 

“Everything’s fine,” Osamu-san assured, “we just have something to tell ya.”

Shinsuke was still confused but followed them to the small parlor, eyebrows rising as they shut the doors and locked them. They turned almost as one to face him, their expressions unreadable. 

“Oh hell,” Atsumu-san snapped, “we just need ta spit it out.” He squared his shoulder, eyes burning with a different light than his usual fervor. “Kita-san, it’s hard to believe ya don’t already know this, but we care for you. Deeply. More than… more than anything.” He took a deep breath, looking to his brother. 

“It’s why we were getting into it today. Everything we feel, it just boiled over and we decided that we needed to tell ya, even at the risk of you feeling nothing in return.” Osamu met his eyes. “Or if ya do… which one do ya fancy in return?” 

Shinsuke’s heart pounded in his chest, his head getting light. It wasn’t as though he hadn’t noticed, hadn’t picked up on their admiration but he’d chalked it up to just that. He knew himself, knew his capabilities and talents. He may not have been born to noble blood, but Shinsuke had been around nobility all his life. He eat, drank and breathed the aristocracy from a position of support to it. 

But he could never… they shouldn’t…

“Say somethin’, please,” Atsumu-san implored. 

Shinsuke swallowed the lump in his throat, sitting on the couch and taking a deep breath. “I… have dreamed of a moment like this and rebuffed myself for it. I never thought it would be true, never thought it could be.” He felt his face heat as he confessed, “The truth is… I care for you both. Deeply, without restriction and it terrifies me.” 

“Don’t be afraid,” Osamu-san said quickly, hurrying to his side, falling to one knee and taking his hand. 

Atsumu arrived at his other side, mirroring his brother’s actions. “Despite evidence to the contrary, we  _ can _ share.”

Shinsuke’s eyes went wide. “We… there’s no way it would be allowed. Surely, you know that.” 

“We’ll find a way,” Osamu-san replied, the warm of his hand burning into Shinsuke’s. 

“That’s right. When have you ever known us Miya’s to not get what we wanted?”

“Guess you were wrong, Kita-san,” Osamu-san teased lightly. 

“About what?” Shinsuke asked, his throat tight with emotion. 

“Disappointment can fuck off,” Osamu-san replied. 

There was a beat of silence then Shinsuke laughed. He threw himself forward, wrapping one arm each around the necks of these incredibly stubborn and yet somehow wonderful men. “I am in your care,” he whispered. 

“We’ll take good care of you,” Atsumu-san said. He drew back, cupping the side of Shinsuke’s face. “Now, for the love of gods, please kiss us, we’re dying here.”

Shinsuke smiled, leaning forward to press his lips to Atsumu’s. It was light, sweet and brief but no less thrilling. Osamu was next and he wasted no time capturing Shinsuke in a deep kiss, hauling him close, arms around his waist. 

“Ok, rule number one: no making out in front of each other,” Atsumu grumbled. 

Shinsuke and Osamu parted with a wet pop and a laugh. 

“As you said, we’ll figure it out,” Shinsuke assured. 

And in the way of the Miya’s, they most certainly did. 


End file.
